The Book of Infinite Spells
by Master Rahl
Summary: A strange gift from a man long since passed. A book of great power with spells older then the Ministry. The spells of a great wizard, Merlin.
1. The Book of Infinite Spells

"Boy, get down here now!"

The voice was familiar to the black haired teen. Though that didn't make it any less annoying. He sighed from his bed in the room with bars on its windows at Number 4 Privet Drive. He sighed from his old lumpy bed and stood slowly. Putting on his glasses he frowned and walked out of his dark room. His overly baggy clothes moving with each step. As he climbed down the stairs he could see his aunt, a tall and lanky woman with a horse face. She was huddled with his cousin, a short boy who was morbidly obese; the fat from under his chin even hiding his neck.

Turning the corner he stopped and saw his uncle, a large man who was quite large himself. It was clear to anyone where his cousin got his appearance. The man was standing as tall as possible, his face red with fury, a package clutched in his hand. On the window sill was a large brown barn owl. The teen stood before his uncle though his eyes were irresistibly drawn to the package. He was quickly snapped from his trance when his uncle read the packaging, "To, Harry Potter. From, Sirius Black."

The teen known as Harry Potter could almost feel his eyes go wide. With a shout he leaped at his uncle attempting to grab the package. His uncle's face turned from red to purple as he swung his hand down and back handed the boy. His body fell limply to the floor, a large bruise on his cheek. It took a minute for Harry to regain his motor function in the slightest bit. Standing shakily he glared at his uncle, "Give me that. It's mine."

His uncle laughed and tossed the package into the fire. Harry could only watch as the packaging burned. His eyes stared at the brown paper as it curled and blackened. All the while he was thinking of how he would tell his God-Father what just transpired. As the paper wrapping completely crumbled away Harry caught a glimpse of the book. It was completely unharmed. There was a flash of blue and the fire in the fireplace had frozen solid. From the ice a thick white mist poured out. When the mist touched the floor around the fireplace that to began to freeze.

Slowly Harry reached his hand in and grabbed the book. He was careful not to touch any of the ice. When he remove the book the ice melted and the flames roared back to life as if they had never been frozen. Without a word Harry took the book and ran up the stairs. Locking his door behind him Harry jumped onto his bed turning on his lamp. He calmly looked over the large book.

It was thick, probably well over a two thousand pages. The cover was black as night and made of leather. The cover was coated in runes that Harry didn't recognize. The title was gilded in gold on the cover, _The Book of Infinite Spells, _Harry smiled to himself and opened the cover. On the very first page was a long note in wonderfully scripted writing. Harry read it to himself,

_Dear Mr Harry James Potter,_

_ Here you have in your possession a book of ancient and powerful knowledge. Within these pages are spells that will help you defeat anyone who stands in your way. Though I knew the book would wind up in your hands the future of what you choose to do with the book is cloudy. I trust that you will use the power here within wisely and keep your best Gryffindor mindset when faced with problems. Now I present to you _The Book of Infinite Spells _it is a work which I myself created and named. It took me many years of effort so I hope you will appreciate this gift. It contains every spell, ritual, and alchemical procedure known in my time. _

_ If what I have foreseen is accurate, and it always has been thus far, the magical power of the Wizards and Witches of your time is greatly diminished due to the attempt to classify magic as Light or Dark. Within the Wizards and Witches of your world there lies a schism. Your subconscious mind knows that there is no such thing as Light Magic and Dark Magic, but what you have been taught contradicts this. So the Wizards and Witches of your time have cut their power in half. Some embrace the 'Light' while others embrace the 'Dark'. However due to the events that transpired when you were a child you do no have this schism. You have the potential to master magics not seen in the world since my death. Within this book lies power that not even the greatest Wizards or Witches of your time will be able to attempt. When the time comes and you reach the upper tiers of the book I hope that we may speak face __to face._

_Sincerely,_

_Merlin_

_P.S. I know you don't believe me when I say who I am. However, I ask that you have faith._

_P.P.S. My last words of advice to you: __War is on the horizon. It's time to start thinking for yourself. Dumbledore won't shield you forever._

Harry would have scoffed at the note had he note read the last little messages to him. He was still unsure about the book's validity, but he wouldn't out right discount it. If there was one thing he had learned in his life at Hogwarts it was that you could never outright reject something just because it seemed unlikely. Turning the page Harry looked at the first spell, _Magic Missile_. He almost laughed at the name. It was amazingly simple. That is until he read the description: _The Magic Missile spell is the most basic spell for any Wizard to learn. It is a single silvery bolt of pure energy that flies through any shield physical or magical. It can not be evaded or deflected. The damage potential of the spell is low, comparable with being lightly punched in the stomach._

The rest of the page was detail on how to perform the spell. There were even notes directed to Harry from Merlin. They informed Harry that he would need his wand for this spell, however none of the spells within the book were in the Ministry's list of spells and so would not register on their trace or if his wand was checked for recent spells.

Harry sat and read his book in silence for a few days. He couldn't quite get pasted the _Magic Missile_ spell. The theory was strange to him. It went against everything he was taught for four years. There were no motions, no words, no real thought of any sort. The spell was cast by drawing it from within and simply shooting it from the wand.

Today he was sitting on a swing in the middle of the park. His wand in his hand and the book on his lap. He looked up as a large shadow was cast over him and his reading. It was Dudley and his thug friends, "Can you move? You're in my light."

Dudley let out a moderately nervous laugh. He had seen that book freeze fire, but he didn't want to look weak in front of his friends. Instead he changed the subject, "You seem pretty brave out here in the open, but what about when you're alone in your bed? I can hear you, you know. I'm pretty sure the whole street can hear your screams. Your moans. The begging, 'Oh, please don't do it. Don't kill Cedric.' Who's Cedric, Potter? Is he your boyfriend?"

Harry felt his blood run cold. His pupils dilated and his heart raced. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as his own fury flooded his mind. Snapping his book shut he lunged for Dudley. He wasn't strong physically nor was he heavy, but he had some speed and upward momentum and surprise on his side. His shoulder hit Dudley in the diaphragm and forced him to take a step back. He lost his breath for a second and when he regained it he could feel something pressing against his forehead. It was Harry's wand. Harry leaned close and spoke in a hushed whisper just loud enough for Dudley to hear, "Send your goons away, Dudley. If you do I'll pretend this never happened. I might even cover for you if your parents ever find your stash."

Dudley's eyes widened and he nodded. Looking back he told his friends to leave. That he would see them tomorrow. His friends didn't say anything they just turned and left. They were probably about as dim witted as Dudley himself if not more so. They would have to be to let Dudley be their leader. Once they were far enough away Harry lowered his wand putting it back in his pocket. Once the wand was safely away Harry was immediately stumbled by a powerful right hook. The punch almost knocked Harry to the ground, but he managed to grab the chain to the swing set. Standing shakily he looked at Dudley. He had a choice to make. He could either walk away and end the fight like that or draw his wand once again and see if he could manage the _Magic Missile_ spell yet. He barely bothered to weigh his options. His hand immediately went for his wand. He had to stop this before it got any worse. As his wand slid from his pocket he was stopped short. His world went cold and the sky went dark. Harry could hear the screams echo in his mind. He knew what was to come. Dementors.

Harry grabbed his now very pale cousin. He knew he was equally pale and he could feel the cold sweat on his face. He pulled Dudley by the collar shouting that they had to run. As if in a trance Dudley nodded and followed. Harry knew all to well the power that fear could invoke in a person. Pushing them past their normal limits. That was his only hope here. That the fear he felt and the fear he hoped Dudley felt could push them far enough. It was however not to be so. Though the fear and desire to survive was prevalent the screams in his mind weighed him down, and Dudley's weight weighed him down. The pair turned into an alley under a bridge. Harry leaned back against the wall. He was panting deeply.

In an instant his breath hitched in his throat. The air froze. The lights in the alley went out. It was dark. Almost too dark to see. The air became thick and painful to breath. Looking around frantically Harry couldn't find them anywhere. The blackness of their cloaks seemed to blend with the shadows around him. Without warning something impacted his throat and lifted him off the ground. In front of him was a tall thin shadow. Harry grasped his wand tightly and pressed it against the cloaked figure. He had one chance. If this failed he was doomed.

He tried to calm himself. He summoned all his energy into his arm and funneled it through his wand. There was a flash and from his wand leaped a bolt of silver energy. It impacted the figure and pushed it back to the opposite wall. Harry dropped to the floor and panted. He had to fight. He had to live. He looked to his left and saw something that shocked him. Another shorter Dementor was attacking Dudley. He was about to receive the Dementor's Kiss. Harry roared and shot another _Magic Missile _from his impacted the shorter Dementor and pushed it back. Harry could feel the energy draining. The longer he spent in their presence the weaker he became. He had to drive them off. There was only one way to do that. Though he didn't like it. He summoned all his energy and pointed his wand at the Dementor pair. As he summoned a memory that almost brought a visible smiled to his face he stopped. From behind the Dementors there was a great flash of silver light. Someone else was here. A non-muggle at that. With a satisfied smile Harry dropped his wand arm and slumped down. They were safe.

When Harry awoke he was laying in a large soft bed. He was under a large patchwork quilt and there was a distinct smell of cats in the air. Slowly Harry began to piece things together. He knew where he was, he had been here many times as a child. Sitting up quickly he looked around. The world was blurry. It took him a second to realize he didn't have his glasses. Harry looked at the nightstand but couldn't find them. An even more familiar voice brought his attention to what he assumed was the door, "Looking for these, Mr. Potter?"

"Professor McGonagall, what are you doing here?"

"I was called here during your attack by Arabella."

"Arabella? You mean Mrs. Figg?"

"Yes. The woman you know as Mrs. Figg. Since the beginning of your life here Dumbledore has had her watching out for you. She was recently given a special Port Key that would summon someone should you be in danger."

"You mean Dumbledore is having me followed?"

"Of course."

Harry nodded in acceptance of that. He took his glasses from McGonagall and put them on. Standing shakily he looked at his Head of House, "What about Dudley?"

"He was Obliviated and returned home safely. The Dursleys believe Mrs Figg found him unconscious from heat stroke."

"I see. How long was I out, and what of my things?"

"You've been out for about an hour and your things," McGonagall placed Harry's wand and the book in front of him, "They are right here."

Harry thanked the woman greatly, "Professor, will I be returning to the Dursley's after all of this?"

"That is for Albus to decide."

"So, yes."

McGonagall glared at Harry but sighed when he looked down, "I'll see what I can do."

Harry smiled and climbed out of bed gathering his things. He nodded to McGonagall and walked out. In silent contemplation Harry walked back to his home. He entered and saw his aunt and uncle fawning over his cousin who was laying on the couch. He quickly moved by them and climbed back up to his room. He had managed to cast _Magic Missile_ tonight. Laying on his bed he promptly passed out.

Harry spent the next three days in his room in silence. His days and nights were spent reading the book. He was just finishing the basic spells chapter. They were amazingly powerful. There were eleven spells in total. Harry knew the theory behind all of them, but was only certain of being able to cast _Magic Missile_. Harry sighed allowed; progress was slow.

Harry snapped his book shut and drew his wand as his door opened. What he saw startled him. Alastor Moody was standing in his doorway with Remus Lupin standing next to him. There was silence for only a second when Moody snapped at Harry, "Lower your wand, boy! You'll put someone's eye out with that."

Harry nodded deftly and put his wand away in his side pocket, "What are you two doing here and how did you get past the Dursleys?"

"You fool," Moody scolded, "they left almost an hour ago. Didn't you hear them? Better yet, didn't you hear us come in? We weren't exactly silent."

Harry looked down embarrassed at his mistake. He was always in danger and yet he had let his guard slip. Lupin entered and put his hand on his ex-student's shoulder to comfort him, "Don't worry about it, Harry. We're all here to take you out of here and to a safer location."

"All? How many of you are there?"

"Enough," Moody retorted.

"There are nine of us. I'll introduce you to them when we get down. Now pack your things."

Harry nodded and hurried around his room. There wasn't much to pack since not much had been taken out recently. He had been so focused on The Book that he neglected to take even look at his other books. The Book was the first thing he put away. He wanted to keep this away from the eyes of people that might try to take it from him. The Book was a well of knowledge and he aimed to drain it dry before he ever let it out of his possession.

The packing was easy, and once everything was put away and Hedwig's cage was cleaned Moody shrank Harry's trunk to it could fit in his pocket and handed it to him. Harry took his broom out from under his bed and slung it over his shoulder. Moody nodded his approval and motioned for Harry to go down the stairs. At the base in the den he was greeted by seven people. The most notable was an attractive witch with deep red hair. Harry couldn't take his eyes off her. Lupin caught his stare and began the introductions there, "Harry, this young woman here is Nymphadora-"

"Don't call me that, Remus"!

"Nymphadora Tonks. Though she prefers her family name to her given name."

Harry nodded silently and shook the woman's hand. His eyes almost had to be pried away from her's as Lupin introduced him to every one else. Nodding at each in turn he shook their hands though he knew he would only remember one new name from tonight, Nymphadora "Tonks" Tonks.

The flight back was slow, but seemed all too fast for Harry. His eyes were constantly drawn to Tonks. He couldn't help it. It was so bad it was affecting his flying. Every once in a while his Firebolt would drift towards her forcing Moody to pull his back into the center, or he would narrowly avoid an obstacle he should have seen from a mile away. At one point he almost crashed into the ground. However he managed to make it without any injuries and without making a total fool of himself, just a slight one.

The group landed in a patch of unkempt grass in front of a large group of old buildings. Harry knew instinctively this was not a good part of whatever town they were in. The entire area was in complete shambles. Windows of some homes were broken, and paint was peeling off some of the doors. Harry's attention was diverted from his surroundings when he heard Moody make a proud exclamation that he had found it. In his hand was a small silver lighter. Which Harry was able to recognize as Dumbledore's Put-Outer.

Moody clicked the light until every street lamp in the area was put out. As soon as the final light was extinguished Harry was roughly grabbed by the arm by Moody and led across the street. The smell of rot was thick in the air. Too thick to be identified as a piece of paper was shoved in his face by Mad-Eye, "Here. Read this and memorize it quickly."

Harry's eye's flicked over the writing at an incredible pace using the light from the wand of the aged Auror. He looked up once he was done, "What's The-"

"Not here, boy," Moody cut him off with a savage growl, "Everything will become clear once we're inside."

Moody snatched the paper and floated it at the tip of his wand. The paper burst into flames and was consumed in seconds. Harry looked around at the houses again. They were standing outside number eleven; he looked to the left and saw number ten; to the right, however, was number thirteen.

"But where's-?"

"Think about what you've just memorized," said Lupin in a whisper.

Harry thought, and no sooner had he reached the part about number twelve, Grimmauld Place, than a battered door emerged out of the wall between numbers eleven and thirteen, followed soon after by

dirty walls and grimy windows. It was as though an extra house had inflated, pushing those on either side out of its way. Harry couldn't help but gape at it. He would never cease to be amazed at what magic could do. The stereo in number eleven thudded on. Apparently the Muggles inside hadn't even felt anything.

"Come on, hurry," growled Moody, prodding Harry in the back.

Harry walked up the aged stone steps, staring at the newly materialized door. Its black paint was shabby and scratched. The silver door knocker was in the form of a twisted serpent. There was no keyhole or letterbox.

Lupin pulled out his wand and tapped the door once. Harry heard many loud, metallic clicks and what sounded like the clatter of a chain. The door creaked open.

"Get in quick, Harry," Lupin whispered, "But don't go far inside and don't touch anything."

Harry stepped over the threshold into the almost total darkness of the hall. He could smell damp, dust, and an extremely distinct rotting smell; the place had the feeling of an abandoned building. Probably He looked over his shoulder and saw the others filing in behind him, Lupin and Tonks carrying his trunk and Hedwig's cage. Moody was standing on the top step and releasing the balls of light the Put-Outer had stolen from the streetlamps; they flew back to their bulbs and the square beyond glowed momentarily with orange light before Moody limped inside and closed the front door, so that the darkness in the hall became complete.

"Now stay still, everyone, while I give us a bit of light in here," Moody whispered.

The others' hushed voices were giving Harry an odd feeling of foreboding, it was as though they had just entered the house of a dying person. He heard a soft hissing noise and then old-fashioned gas lamps sputtered into life all along the walls, casting a flickering insubstantial light over the peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpet of a long, gloomy hallway, where a cobwebbed chandelier glimmered overhead and age-blackened portraits hung crooked on the walls.

Harry heard something scuttling behind the baseboard. Both the chandelier and the candelabra on a rickety table nearby were shaped like serpents. There were hurried footsteps and Ron's mother, Mrs. Weasley, emerged from a door at the far end of the hall. She was beaming in welcome as she hurried toward them, though Harry noticed that she was rather thinner and paler than she had been last time he had seen her.

"Oh, Harry, it's lovely to see you!" she whispered, pulling him into a rib-cracking hug before holding him at arm's length and examining him critically. "You're looking peaky; you need feeding up, but you'll have to wait a bit for dinner, I'm afraid. . . ."

She turned to the group of wizards behind him and whispered urgently, "He's just arrived, the meeting's started. . . ."

The wizards behind Harry all made noises of interest and excitement and began filing past Harry toward the door through which Mrs. Weasley had just come; Harry made to follow Lupin, but Mrs. Weasley held him back.

"No, Harry, the meeting's only for members of the Order. Ron and Hermione are upstairs, you can wait with them until the meeting's over and then we'll have dinner. And keep your voice down in the hall," she added in an urgent whisper.

"Why?"

"I don't want to wake anything up."

"What do you-?"

"I'll explain later, I've got to hurry, I'm supposed to be at the meeting, I'll just show you where you're sleeping."

Pressing her finger to her lips, she led him as silently as possible past a pair of long, moth-eaten curtains, behind which Harry supposed there must be another door, and after skirting a large umbrella stand that looked as though it had been made from a severed troll's leg, they started up the dark staircase, passing a row of shrunken heads mounted on plaques on the wall. A closer look showed Harry that the heads belonged to house-elves. All of them had the same rather pig-like nose. A closer look showed Harry that the heads belonged to house-elves. All of them had the same rather snout-like nose. Harry's bewilderment deepened with every step he took. What on earth were they doing in a house that looked as though it belonged to the Darkest of wizards?

"Mrs. Weasley, why-?"

"Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear, I've really got to dash," Mrs. Weasley whispered distractedly. "There" - they had reached the second landing - "you're the door on the right. I'll call you when it's over."

And she hurried off downstairs again. Harry crossed the dingy landing, turned the bedroom doorknob,which was shaped like a serpent's head, and opened the door. He caught a brief glimpse of a gloomy high-ceiling, twin-bedded room, then there was a loud twittering noise, followed by an even

louder shriek, and his vision was completely obscured by a large quantity of very bushy hair - Hermione had thrown herself onto him in a hug that nearly knocked him flat, while Ron's tiny owl, Pigwidgeon, zoomed excitedly round and round their heads. Harry grinned slightly feeling the girl's arms around his neck. His own hands had gone to her hips out of reflex to keep her from strangling him.

"HARRY! Ron, he's here, Harry's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how _are _you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless - but we couldn't tell you anything, Dumbledore made us swear we wouldn't, oh, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got to tell us - the dementors! You were so lucky McGonagall was on standby!"

"Let him breathe, Hermione," said Ron, grinning, closing the door behind Harry. He seemed to have grown several more inches during their month apart, making him taller and more gangly looking than ever, though everything else was still very much the same and still very Weasley.

Hermione, still beaming with joy at seeing the young wizard, let go of Harry, but before she could say another word there was a soft whooshing sound and something white soared from the top of a dark wardrobe and landed gently on Harry's shoulder, "Hedwig!"

The snowy owl clicked her beak and nibbled his ear affectionately as Harry stroked her feathers.

"She's been in a right state," said Ron. "Pecked us half to death when she brought your last letters, look at this," He showed Harry the index finger of his right hand, which sported a half-healed but clearly deep cut.

"Oh yeah," Harry said. "Sorry about that, but I wanted answers, you know... ."

"We wanted to give them to you, mate," said Ron. "Hermione was going spare, she kept saying you'd do something stupid if you were stuck all on your own without news, but Dumbledore made us-"

"-swear not to tell me," said Harry. "Yeah, Hermione's already said."

The warm glow that had flared inside him at the sight of his two best friends was extinguished as something icy flooded the pit of his stomach. All of a sudden - after yearning to see them for a solid

month - he felt he would rather Ron and Hermione left him alone. There was a strained silence in which Harry stroked Hedwig automatically, not looking at either of the others.

"He seemed to think it was best," said Hermione rather breathlessly, "Dumbledore, I mean."

"Right," said Harry. He noticed that her hands too bore the marks of Hedwig's beak and found that he was not at all sorry.

"I think he thought you were safest with the Muggles-" Ron began.

"Oh really?" Harry said with a sarcastic drawl, raising his eyebrows, "Have either of you been attacked by dementors this summer?"

"Well, no - but that's why he's had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time-"

Harry felt a great jolt in his guts as though he had just missed a step going downstairs. So everyone had known he was being followed except him.

"Didn't work that well, though, did it?" said Harry, doing his utmost to keep his voice even. "Had to look after myself after all, didn't I?"

"He was so angry," said Hermione in an almost awestruck voice, "Dumbledore. We saw him. When he found out Mundungus, the person who was supposed to have been following you, had left before his shift had ended. He was scary. When he finally settled down he thanked Sirius. Apparently he was the one that had insisted having McGonagall waiting just in case."

"Well, I'm glad I was attacked," Harry said coldly, "If I hadn't been I would have been stuck at that hell hole all summer."

With a heavy sigh Harry walked away from them, looking around, with Hedwig nestled contentedly on his shoulder, but this room was not likely to raise his spirits. It was dank and dark. A blank stretch of canvas in an ornate picture frame was all that relieved the bareness of the peeling walls and as Harry passed it he thought he heard someone lurking out of sight snicker, "So why's Dumbledore been so keen to keep me in the dark?" Harry asked, still trying hard to keep his voice casual, "Or did you not even bother to ask him at all?"

He glanced up just in time to see them exchanging a look that told him he was behaving just as they had feared he would. It did nothing to improve his temper.

"We told Dumbledore we wanted to tell you what was going on," said Ron, "We really did, mate. But he's really busy now, we've only seen him twice since we came here and he didn't have much time, he just made us swear not to tell you important stuff when we wrote, he said the owls might be intercepted-"

"He could still have kept me informed if he'd wanted to," Harry said with a scoff,. "You're not honestly telling me he doesn't know ways to send messages without owls, are you?"

Hermione glanced at Ron and replied, "Of course nor, Harry! I thought that too. But he didn't want you to know _anything._"

"Maybe he thinks I can't be trusted," said Harry with a sneer watching their expressions.

"Don't be thick," said Ron, looking highly disconcerted.

"Or that I can't take care of myself-"

"Of course he doesn't think that!" said Hermione anxiously.

"So how come I have to stay at the Dursleys' while you two get to join in everything that's going on here?" said Harry, the words tumbling over one another in a rush, his voice growing louder with every word. "How come you two are allowed to know everything that's going on-?"

"We're not!" Ron interrupted. "Mum won't let us near the meetings, she says we're too young-"

He was cut off as Harry sighed and began to stroke Hedwig's head. Sitting on the bed he had a slightly twisted and pained grin on his face. He was looking up at the ceiling when he suddenly started laughing. There was no joy in his laughter only a hollowed pain, "I get it. I think I understand why this is happening the way it is now. I get it. I do. It's not what Dumbledore thinks of me. It's what he realizes about you two. He knows that you two trust authority blindly. That you'd never go behind his back and tell me anything. So he's using you two to keep me under thumb. If I knew what was going on I would try to get out of the Dursleys' at all costs. He knows that, and he knows that your naivety will secure your trust in his judgment even if his decision is wrong."

The two were stunned speechless. Harry's eyes weren't glaring at them. They didn't even appear angry. Rather, his relaxed form and eyes seemed to show with pity and understanding. He slowly stroked Hedwig's feathers with a small smile as if nothing was wrong. As if what he said would fix everything. It was too much for Ron to bear. He snapped with a roar and went to swing at Harry; Hermione managed to grab him just in time leaving him to struggle as he yelled at the calm raven haired boy, "Bloody hell, Harry! We were just doing what Dumbledore ordered!"

"I know. That's the problem," Harry replied, he was still completely calm. He wasn't even looking at them anymore.

"Harry! You can't honestly mean that! Dumbledore only has your best interests at heart. Why would we think any different?" Hermione was frantic as she tried to hold back her tears.

"Why would you think different? Hermione, why wouldn't you? It's not a matter of trust. It's a matter of thinking, of logic, I could have accepted if it was just Ron, but you? I thought you were smart enough to think about the ramifications of what you do. Have you forgotten last year already?"

Both Hermione and Ron stopped and stared at Harry. He shook his head when no one answered, "I see. So you did forget, or you never actually learned the lesson. Barty Crouch. Do you remember what happened with Crouch? He impersonated Moody. He became our teacher. Then he manipulated us. All of us. First he manipulated Hagrid to get me through the first task. Then he manipulated Cedric to get me to the second. Then he manipulated Neville to help me complete it. Then he turned the tournament cup into a port key to kill me! He posed as authority because authority has power over those who trust it. Do you think any of them would have trusted another student giving the advice? Of course not! Blind trust kills. It has already killed Cedric, and it could have killed me! Crouch's deception and Cedric's death should have taught us that authority can not be trusted simply because it is authority. Not even Dumbledore."

The room was filled with an ominous silence, a crushing pressure that seemed to emanate from the raven-haired teen. His emerald eyes staring not at, but through his long time friends. Ron was the first to cave. He turned sharply and stormed out of the room. Harry sighed and focused solely on Hermione now, he remained silent with a grim look on his face.

"I-I can't believe you, Harry James Potter!" Hermione turned and ran after Ron. Harry was certain he had caught the faintest glint of tears in her eyes, but he shook off that thought. He had no time to worry. He had to study more. Soon he would be at Hogwarts, and soon he would be able to practice to his heart's content.

Laying down on the bed Harry took out the book. He turned to the third spell in the book, _Cloud of Daggers_. By the description it was exactly what it sounded like: a magic tornado of daggers that cut and slice at the target. Harry began to read the page on how to cast the spell and was quickly lost in the book as he read the page over and over without pause memorizing every word. His sense of time and self faded away until he was lost to all sights and sounds outside of the book before his eyes and the thoughts within his mind.

Harry was so lost he didn't hear his door open and close, or see his god-father, Sirius peek in and leave. Harry kept reading for hours. His body not feeling any hunger at all even though it had been so long since he'd eaten. Harry stopped reading suddenly and snapped the book closed. The closed with a sharp thud that spoke to its thickness. He closed his eyes slowly and began to take deep rhythmic breaths. His chest rose and fell every ten seconds like clock work.

Harry relaxed until he was comfortable. Slowly the darkness of his closed eyes was filled with a blinding silver light. The light pulsed and shrank until it formed an orb small enough to hold in his hands. Harry's eyes snapped open as a bolt of lightning shot through his mind. He clutched his head hissing sharply. Seconds dragged on like minutes as the pain resonated throughout his body finally subsiding into a dull ache.

Harry shook off the pain and opened the book again. He clearly must have done something wrong. Reading over the spell twice more Harry closed his eyes and began to breath. Slowly be brought forth the orb of light. In his mind he could see himself standing before the orb, holding it in his hands, he began to will the orb to give him the power to perform the spell. The orb began to funnel power into him. More and more filled his body as he began to glow with a silver light within his mind. Suddenly the orb yielded. It stopped giving him its power, but what he had wasn't enough. He pushed for the orb to give him more but the orb pulsed with refusal. Harry scowled and gripped the orb trying to take the power by force. It worked.

Slowly he began to feel the power flow through him again, but it stopped again. Harry tried to force it again but the orb pulsed with a blinding light. Harry gripped it harder. The orb was trying to push him away. The sound of shattering glass echoed within his mind. The orb had broken. There was an explosion within him. His eyes snapped open and he lurched forward grabbing his chest. He was coughing. Breathing in short ragged breaths. His chest felt as though it was on fire and every motion on made it worse. His face was warm and something wet was running down from his nose over his mouth.

A hand touched his back, a noise lost to his ears. Harry's breathing began to slow as the coughing got louder. He felt the same warmth from his face in his throat. He coughed hard as his vision focused. Looking down at his lap he saw what he had just coughed up, blood. Raising a slow shaking hand to his face he felt more blood pouring from his nose. Harry looked toward the direction of the sound as it slowly began to clarify to him. It was his name. The voice. He knew it from somewhere. He began to dig through his mind despite its painful protests. Hermione. The voice belong to Hermione. Harry reached up slowly and placed his hand on her shoulder and began to croak, "Sirius... Get Sirius and...and...water...please."

The hand left his back. More noise. A door and foot steps that were getting quieter. The pain began to lessen. It faded into a dull throbbing ache. Harry perked up as he heard more noises. Footsteps getting closer. The door opened. More footsteps and the door closed. A new voice. Much easier to recognize this time, Sirius. Something was placed in his hands and the voice spoke, "Water."

Harry opened his mouth and dumped the container into his mouth taking long drawn out gulps. He lowered it once he was done and gasped for breath. He was breathing easier now. The pain was gone. He felt a cloth touch his face and move, it was removing the blood. It was gone in a matter of seconds. Harry looked over at the pair and smiled, "Thank you."

"Harry, what happened?" Sirius began the questioning.

"I was trying a spell from the book. I wasn't strong enough, my core rejected me. I tried to force it, but it shattered. It exploded."

"Harry, that's crazy. Your magic core isn't something you can interact with; it's just something inside you. In your blood," retorted Hermione with concern.

Harry looked at Sirius then down at the book. He took a deep breath, there was no pain, "Looks like the secret is out, Sirius. We should tell her."

"Tell me what?"

"Not to long ago, before the dementor attack, I sent Harry a gift. A book I found in the Black Library. The book contained a note from Merlin to me. It told me things that no one else knew. Things that only Moony and James would have known. It told me that I was to send the book to Harry because he would need it. I couldn't read the book at all, but it said Harry would be able to, so I sent it to him by a secret owl. Not even Dumbledore knows what I did."

Harry picked up the story there, covering his reception of the book, up to what he just attempted. Even explaining the magic of the book, and telling her about the spell he used against the dementors that attacked him. Hermione listened with rapt attention. She seemed entirely drawn in by Harry's explanations. Once Harry had finished he leaned back against the wall, "What do you think, Hermione?"

"You should tell Professor Dumbledore. He-"

"No."

"But-"

"No."

Harry you-"

"No. Hermione, just...just no, okay?"

"Harry-"

"Promise me, Hermione. Right now. Promise me this stays between us. I don't want anyone knowing about this until I'm ready."

"Okay. Okay, Harry, I promise."


	2. New Light Rises

Harry and Hermione spent a good portion of the evening together. Harry read the book on the bed. Hermione simply sat next to him and watched; occasionally asking a question about the content of the book since she couldn't read the text. Harry was always calm when she asked about the spell and at times would even ask for her opinion on a phrase or instruction. At one point Harry was broken out of his reading by a soft giggle. He questioningly looked to his brunette friend with a slight scowl, "What?"  
>"Nothing. It's just strange to see you studying without me having to shove a book in your face."<p>

Harry scoffed and buried his nose back in the book, "If they had material like this available I would study more."

Hermione shook her head with a faint smile, her brown curls bouncing with each slight motion of her head. The next hour passed in relative silence. Only the sound of breathing and Harry shifting the pages of his book filled the room. Harry began to lose himself within the book once again constantly studying spell after spell. Harry stopped on a new spell. It was an extremely simple that he should have no trouble performing, _Mage Hand._

Harry took a deep breath and reached within tapping into his magical core. The core easily yielded the magic he needed. Slowly he began to craft it into the shape of a hand within his mind. When he opened his eyes a faint silver ghost hand was floating in front of him. Harry began looking around the room for something to use this hand on; his eyes first landed on Hermione. She was staring at the ceiling and hadn't noticed a change yet. His eyes roamed her body slowly and the hand began to move toward her slowly rising and falling chest.

The hand opened and its fingers wiggled. Shaking his head hard enough Harry was certain his neck would break. The hand stopped just centimeters away and began to move away careful not to touch her. Harry quickly sent the hand to his trunk to retrieve his wand. The hand came back in a matter of minutes. Harry took his wand and willed the hand out of existence. Harry was about to go back into the book when Sirius threw open the door causing Harry to jump and roll out of the bed. Once he managed to collect himself Harry shot a dagger filled glare to his Godfather.

Sirius' face was an odd mixture of humor and seriousness. It was as if his face could not decide on one expression and had instead decided to split his visage in half. The left side of his face was smirking with a barely contained comment. The right half was stuck in a scowl of warning. He finally stuck with a scowl and spoke, "You need to get out, Hermione. I managed to distract everyone up till now, but I'm out of stories to preoccupy them with."

Hermione nodded and quickly stood up brushing her shirt off as she hurriedly exited the room. She turned around and smiled at Harry who was busy hiding the book in his trunk, "I'll see you tomorrow, Harry."

Harry nodded and closed his chest walking back to his bed, "Yeah. See you tomorrow."

Sirius laughed as Hermione walked out. Closing the door behind himself he left Harry alone in the dark room. Harry sighed and laid back on the bed. Closing his eyes Harry began to take deep breaths to calm himself. A lot had happened today and he needed to analyze everything. After the third breath Harry was asleep. His mouth hung open slightly.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he was greeted by a remarkable view. Mountains, as far as the eye could see. The sky was perfectly cloudless. Harry saw why when he looked down. He was above the clouds. Atop a great snow covered mountain. His hair and shirt were moving in the gentle wind. Harry couldn't help himself as he cracked a great smile, "Where am I?"

"You are in my world, Harry James Potter. You are in the realm of a god," The voice was booming and guttural though not malevolent. It echoed around and through him and filled him with a sense of calm warmth and security. Harry turn around and gaped. Before him was a massive dragon. Its scales were platinum and its eyes were a deep blue. The dragon's snout was twice his size as the dragon sat upon, and almost dwarfed, a nearby mountain. The dragon stared down at him with the sun at its back.

Harry took a step back and gazed over the dragon's mighty form. He shuddered and spoke in a shaky voice, "Who are you?"

"I am Bahamut the Platinum Dragon God. I am the god of all things good: Honor, Protection, Nobility, and Justice! Long ago I was revered by all those who sought the ways of The Light. I was the master of the Metallic Dragons who guarded and aided man kind. However that time is long past. The Metallic Dragons are gone from your world leaving only the dragons you know today in their wake. Magic and Muggle alike have scorned The Light in exchange for their own desires."

"I'm sure humans haven't been that horrible. What of Dumbledore? He is considered the embodiment of Light."

"Dumbledore?" The Dragon scoffed releasing a jet of sapphire blue flame from its nostrils, "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is a shadow of the man who was last my champion. The great wizard Merlin. Merlin was like a god among men. He was generous and righteous. He punished darkness where ever if reared its head. When he lived, times were good. Light touched all the world and all were happy. Then, my champion was murdered by a woman named Morgan le Fay. His last work, a book addressed to you, has emerged in the world. You have the potential, Harry James Potter, to become the greatest embodiment of Light since Merlin himself; you also have the potential to become an embodiment of darkness more fearsome then Gellert Grindelwald and Tom Marvolo Riddle. You, Harry James Potter, could save the world or destroy it, and your friends will follow you in every choice you make. Harry James Potter, do you know the meaning of Justice?"

"Yes, I know the meaning of Justice."

The dragon scoffed again and leaned down. Its head crossed the gap between the mountains with ease, "Does Tom Riddle deserve to die?"

Harry stopped himself before he responded. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was another layer to this question. Shaking his head slightly Harry looked into the eye's of the dragon god, "Of course he deserves to die."

The dragon scoffed again and blinked. It huge blue eyes darkened and misted over, "Look into my eye and see the past of the man you so easily condemn to death."

Harry looked into Bahamut's eye and immediately felt an immense pain in his head. Images swam before his eyes like a movie being played on fast forward. Thousands of pictures. Millions of words and sounds. Information and knowledge flooded him in a single crushing wave. And as soon as it had begun, it stopped. The pain faded in an instant and all that was left was information and memories. Memories of a boy in an orphanage. A boy tormented and teased and abused. A boy named Tom Marvolo Riddle. Bahamut's eyes cleared up once more and the light returned to them, "What do you think now, Harry James Potter? You have seen the past and the pain of your mortal enemy. Must he still die?"

"Yes," Harry responded on shaking legs, "A terrible past does not excuse what he did, what he is doing. There is no Light in him."

Bahamut seemed to chuckle as smoke came in wisps from his nostrils, "You are indeed correct. Justice must be dealt from those who stray from the path of Light. However, not all that is good was always good. Look once more into my eye and see the past of the man known as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

Harry stared into the dragons eye and braced himself for the pain. It took everything Harry had not to scream as the visions dragged on and on. Longer then Voldemort's past. Dumbledore was old and there was clearly much to see, much to know. It hurt like nothing else, but Harry embraced it. The Dragon God would not waste his time if it was not important. When the images stopped Harry was shaken. He couldn't believe what he had scene, what he had learned. Who Dumbledore had once been, what he had thought, what he had done. The dragon's booming voice rose him from his thoughts, "What of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore? Does this man deserve death for his actions and his inaction?"

Harry shook as he spoke, he was unsure of himself but he felt he knew the right answer, "No. No, he doesn't deserve death. He strayed, but he returned extremely quickly. He does his best to serve the Light and repent for his mistakes. He regrets everything he did, everything he thought, everything he didn't do. He regrets them every day he lives. He is being punished everyday for straying from the Light and he accepts his punishment knowing that he earned it."

The dragon rose it's massive head back and looked down at Harry. For a moment Harry feared he had answered incorrectly and that the dragon might attack, but he was relieved when the dragon nodded its head letting loose more wisps of smoke, "You are indeed a boy who knows what it is to walk with Light and with Honor. Your mother was much the same way. I never gave her this test. I never got the chance."

"You knew my mother?"

"I know of all humans. I am a god. However, your mother was a human after my own heart. She was as pure as they came. She was noble and honorable and strong and generous. She walked with the Light every day she lived. She could have done much better then your father. Much better indeed. However, that was her choice even if I silently disapproved here in my realm. As it was her choice to die."

"What do you mean it was her choice to die?"

"When you were young, just a newborn, there was a prophecy spoken to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore from your Divination teacher. It said that Tom Marvolo Riddle would be defeated by the child of those who thrice defied him, one born as the seventh month dies. That neither can live while the other survived. When Tom Marvolo Riddle learned of this prophecy he decided that the child was you. I knew he would go to kill your parents and you and so did Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. He hid your parents away. However, as you know, they were betrayed and given away. The night before the attack I appeared to your mother and told her of the prophecy and that I could hide them away and redirect Tom Marvolo Riddle to the other family that fit the prophecy, the Longbottom family. All she would have to do is become my champion in the world. Take up the role Merlin once held and fight to restore Light to the world with my blessing. She refused. She refused to sacrifice anyone else for herself. She told me she was not afraid to die for the sake of those she loved. She apologized for not being able to aid me, but she said that she could not murder her friends like that. I granted her wish. The next night I watched as your mother and father were slain to defend you, and I watched as your mother's sacrifice allowed you, a mere infant, to defeat a great evil. Never forget Harry James Potter, your mother was an angel who gave everything she had in the defense of those she loved."

Harry nodded with a faint smile on his face. He had always been told how amazing his mother was, but he had never known, no one had ever known, that she was as amazing as what Bahamut had told him. Harry couldn't stop himself from asking his next question, "What about my father?"

Bahamut let loose an angry roar that shook the mountains and made snow fall down the sides of the mountains as avalanches, "Your father was a dreadful man. A trickster who toed the line of Order and Chaos at every chance he got. He would not hesitate to play whatever pranks he thought fitting on those who stood in his way. What your mother saw in him I will never know understand. His only redeeming quality was his sense of honor."

Harry couldn't help but smile and chuckle at the Dragon God's disapproval of his father. It seemed many people, and non-people, thought the same things about his father to a certain extent. Harry looked up at the blue sky and let loose a long sigh in the silence of the mountains, "What now? Is there more I must know?"

"Harry James Potter, you will never known enough. No one ever truly knows enough. However there is more to tell you. One more story, and one final choice to make. Many centuries ago, before even the time of Merlin, there was a man by the name of Ryth Goldblade. A warrior after my own heart in a time when my name was but a whisper on the winds. I searched the world for a champion worthy of being my first. Then I found him. In the beginning his name was Ryth Haroldson, he was a knight in the service of a local lord on the coast of England.

One day their village was attacked by a large bandit group. The knights were outnumbered greatly and there was no time to call for help. The lord had retreated to his home and locked himself safely inside leaving the people to be slaughtered. The knights fought the best they could. However for every knight that fell two or more ran to save their own hide. All except Ryth. He stood his ground to defend his village to the death, and his wish was granted. He was slain after a long and drawn out battle. Many enemies fell to his blade and the bandits were forced back as the people rose up under the effect of his heroism.

I approached him as he lay in between the realms of Life and Death just outside of the reach of that woman, The Raven Queen, and so still able to return to life. I offered him the title of my champion and he accepted. He swore to take up his blade in my name to vanquish evil from the world. I marked him and returned him to his body while mending his wounds. He set about making good on his word immediately. First by hunting down the bandits that first slew him and killing each of them.

Then he did something I did not foresee, he formed an organization, The Dawn Authority, dedicated to the worship of myself and all that I stand for. The Dawn Authority stood for many centuries and fought alongside King Arthur many times. Merlin was the last member of The Dawn Authority and when he died they fell into myth and soon disappeared from history all together. Ryth Goldblade was my first champion, and my greatest, a one of a kind paladin. Harry James Potter, will you take up the mantle of Head of The Dawn Authority and be my first Champion in over a millennium?"

"Yes," Harry knelt as he had heard was custom, "I, Harry James Potter, shall become the Champion of The Platinum Dragon God, Bahamut."

The dragon nodded and leaned down once again pressing its snout against Harry's forehead. Harry felt heat fill his body as his arms began to burn. The burn was painless, rather instead it felt amazing. It filled him with confidence, with a feeling of power. When the burn subsided the dragon pulled its head back, "Look at your left arm, Champion."

Harry looked down at his left arm and grinned, burned into his arm was a platinum spiral in the shape of a dragon. Harry ran his fingers over the brand in amazement. It was rough around the edges from where skin had melted and peeled away, but the inside was smooth like glass and upon closer inspection Harry could see that the platinum color was made from small scales. Harry looked back to Bahamut, "What now?"

"Now you awaken and go about your life. Tell no one of what you have learned here. The time is not right."

Harry nodded as the world went white. His body was floating as if in water. Warmth covered his entire form. Harry's eyes snapped open and he gasped for breath. He was looking up at a ceiling. The ceiling of Number 12 Grimmuald Place. Harry could hear Ron sleeping next to him and birds outside. It was early in the morning. Harry sat up in his bed and rubbed his arm. The brand was there, but it was no longer rough. The skin and scales had merged.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: I am sure some, if not most, of you recognize the name Bahamut. He is a summon in Final Fantasy, or at least that is where the name is most known from, however Bahamut is also the name of a god from the table top RPG known as Dungeons and Dragons. I was using the D&amp;D version of Bahamut and did my best to represent how I believed a god who represents the things Bahamut does would act. <strong>


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